It was cold, South Park had that. It was exceptionally cold. Craig forgot he was cold a lot of the time now. He was the type of kid to wear shorts all year long, including November through February. Of course his knees froze over, and his teeth chattered, and his face chapped in the wind. He was immune, not invincible. He still felt it all, except one day he just decided not to care.
Tweek, on the other hand, was practically cold-blooded. He needed a heat lamp to stay warm and an ice bath to cool off. Every day the spaz was usually wearing an undershirt, T-shirt, crewneck sweater, jumper, flannel, cotton jacket, jean jacket, and XL coat—give or take. Maybe because it offered combinatorial versatility. In any case, Craig wondered how Tweek didn't sweat under all that. He knew he would, and sweat wasn't just annoying, it was gross; he couldn't not care about that. But Tweek didn't reek of B.O., so Craig didn't mind.
In any case, it was cold, and Craig barely noticed. It was recess, and he and Tweek were sitting on the perimeter brick wall as they did nowadays, enjoying a nice piece of silence. It was really beautiful. All the rest of the kids were watching Heidi beat up Cartman or something. Craig ignored them, watching the snow.
"It's snowing," Tweek said, lifting his gloved hand. Tiny snowflakes caught against the black fabric. If they squinted they could see all the crystal spindles visible by naked eye.
"That's cool," Craig smiled.
Tweek looked up, grinning until all of a sudden he frowned. "Are you cold?"
"What?"
"Are you cold? You're shivering!"
"I am not." Craig folded his arms. There were goosebumps on his biceps and his elbow joints felt like frozen crocodile rocks.
Tweek ungloved his hands and slapped both of Craig's cheeks.
"Ow!" Craig complained.
"Your face is freezing, dude," Tweek informed. His hibernated hands were surprisingly warm and soft. "You can get sick. Or frostbite. Or bloody dry skin."
The thing was it took effort to not care about things and Craig felt himself beguiled by Tweek's contagious sympathy. "I guess I am a little," he admitted.
Tweek removed his hands and his face tightened in its determined scrunch. He took off his winter coat, unzipped his outermost jacket, and draped it over Craig's shoulders. It was such a touching gesture Craig kind of wanted Tweek dress him. But he shoved his arms through himself and zipped up anyway. The interior was that strange bumpy cotton, a little scratchy and completely insulating.
"Do you want another?" Tweek asked.
"No," Craig said. He dropped his face into the collar, ostensibly to warm his nose but really just to find out what Tweek's clothes smelled like. Generic detergent, a hint of coffee. Craig's heart went heady with the discovery. "It's fine. I'll wash it."
"What?" Tweek laughed. "You don't have to. It's just borrowing."
"I'll do your laundry for you."
"Okay, sure. You'll have to come to my house."
"Okay. Tonight then."
Craig sighed happily. He slid closer so that his hip touched Tweek's, then dropped his head against the other boy's shoulder. "I'm really warm right now."
"Me too," Tweek said.
And then Heidi championed Cartman. Everyone was cheering except for Eric, who lay prone on the ground. Craig ignored them. He watched the snowflakes pile up on Tweek's gloves and laced their fingers together.
It was really beautiful. The cold had that.
A/N: Next time I'll write Craig doing Tweek's laundry.